


right here in my arms

by oliverwalsh



Series: 100 drabbles [1]
Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: M/M, minor character death?? sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 20:02:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5797954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oliverwalsh/pseuds/oliverwalsh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Death is never easy, but it's a little easier when there's someone to comfort you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	right here in my arms

**Author's Note:**

> This is a drabble based on the prompt word _heartbreak_.

It starts out like any other day. They’ve somehow gotten all kids dressed and soon fed. Brandon pokes his tongue out as he intensively plays Super Mario on his Nintendo next to Grace who murmurs for herself as she gets through the week’s reading assignment. She’s nearly six now, gulping down any book she can find. Just the week before, Connor had to pry Crime and Punishment out of her hands. I might be able to do it, she’d said. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s surprised them both. Finn is the only one paying real attention to his breakfast, more or less drinking his bowl of cereal without as much as a pause. He’s going to need to change into a new shirt after he’s done but at least his hair is safe, neatly put up in a pony tail by Oliver. For a kid who has just turned four, his hair is quite long. Mostly because he threatened to run away to Kansas last time they suggested cutting his hair. Superman wouldn’t do this to me, he’d shouted. Even Connor had to agree that was probably true.

It’s a normal day. At least until he hears a slam in the bathroom down the hall. 

“Connor?” Oliver’s voice is shaky, uncertain. 

“Yeah?” He calls back, a worried frown on his face. 

“Can you, uh, take the kids today? I’ve got… I’ve got some stuff I need to do before I can head to work. Some mails that apparently need to be answered right away.” It isn’t really that strange to have him ask that. They usually split it up; Oliver taking the older kids to school while Connor drops Finn off at daycare but some days, one of them is too busy to do their part. But there’s something in Oliver’s voice that makes him tingly and warm in all the bad ways; it’s hard not to instantly worry. 

“Yeah, that’s okay. Are you okay?” 

“I’m okay. I’m okay.” 

“Do you want t—” 

“No, but thanks.” Connor licks his lips, staring at the bathroom door like it’ll make it melt down and allow him to see what’s happening on the other side of it. But it doesn’t. He knows his husband wants to be alone right now. After all this years, he’d be a fool not to be able to tell. But it doesn’t make him less desperate to comfort. His mind instantly goes to the baby they’re going to adopt. It’s not due for another three months but they have constantly been warned about its condition. It’s expected to come sooner than it should, if it comes at all. But despite the warnings, or maybe because of it, they both want it. But every random phone call makes them both jump high with anxiety lately. The possibility is frightening, but if… If it was that, Oliver would want to tell him right away. It’s definitely not his job because they’re constantly kissing his ass, and his parents seemed rather fine when during their visist just two days earlier… 

“Daddy, we’re gonna be late,” Brandon complains as he closes his Nintendo, throwing it into his bag. It’s a sweet bag in the form of Pikachu. He’s been in his Pokémon stage for the last year and a half and seems to have no plans of growing out of it. Oliver’s rather pleased about that. Connor is still trying to remember all the new Pokémon - he desperately misses the times when there was just the original 150. 

“I don’t wanna be late! Imogen is bringing her pet snake to school!” Gracie considers this with a thoughtful look on her face. “Can I bring Finn for pet week?” 

“No, you can’t bring your brother. He isn’t a pet.” 

“He is kind of feral,” Gracie counters as her younger brother starts to lick the kitchen table for the of milk and cereal he’s spilled. Her father doesn’t reply because he has no argument against this. 

“I hope we get fish today,” Brandon muses as they make their way towards the car. His sister makes gagging noises. 

“I want a fish,” Finn announces. “I’m gonna name it Nemo.” 

“That’s nice.” 

“I hope you aren’t going to name the fish you might get for lunch,” Brandon wrinkles his nose in disgust, staring at his brother. “That’s gross.” 

“Fish are people too. They had a life before we killed them for food,” Gracie counters. Brandon looks, if possible, even more grossed out. 

***

It feels like forever before he finally rushes through the front door again, thirty minutes later. The bathroom door is still locked. Connor doesn’t even bother to get his coat off as he leans against the door.

“Oliver?” 

“What are you doing? Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” Oliver asks between soft sobs. 

“You seemed to need me more…” He bites his lower lip, sighing. “Why don’t you open the door?” There’s a short silence before the door unlocks. He turns the knob, opening the door to reveal Oliver on the bathroom floor; partly dressed for work. It’s only the socks and tie missing, really. His face is pale, his eyes an angry shade of pink as the tears stream down his face. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” Connor rushes down onto the floor, wrapping an arm around his husband. “What’s wrong, baby?” Oliver sniffs, grimacing painfully. 

“My grandmother died.” 

“Oh.” He isn’t sure what to say so he settles for rubbing the other’s cheek with his thumb while his other hand closes the distance between them; the side of Oliver’s torso tightly pressing against Connor’s chest. Admittedly, he hadn’t met his grandmother-in-law that many times. She was old and lived up in Minnesota where she’d lived since birth - despite most of her children leaving the state, she had always been quite content to remain there. Then again, she was shipped around the country for every birthday, wedding and birth. Considering the size of Oliver’s family, she probably needed the quiet Minnesota life quite badly inbetween. But the thought of her gone made the world seem a little less bright, a little bit less jolly already. 

“I don’t even know why I’m surprised, she’s… she’s old. She was old.” 

“An old hag,” Connor murmurs, a soft smile on his face. It’s what she used to call herself - before cackling so loudly, she’d nearly fall out of her chair. It earns a weak chuckle from Oliver as he buries his head into his husband’s chest, taking in the familiar, comforting smells. 

“I miss her already.” 

“That’s okay.” Honestly, Connor had never had a good contact with any of his grandparents and had never really seen the point of having one but after seeing Oliver’s… He never though he’d be able to compare the love he felt for his children with anyone else’s but the connection between Oliver and his grandmother was definitely up there. 

“So much,” Oliver sobs at the touch of Connor’s hand stroking his short hair. “I just… remember that time she bought an extra freezer just to be able to buy more ice cream?” Connor laughs softly. That’d been the first time he’d met his grandmother-in-law in her Minnesota home. The place was filled to the brim with anything with sugar in it; and pictures of young Elvis Presley. “She was so pissed we were adopting our third child and we still didn’t consider naming it after her.” 

“Finn just didn’t look like a Wilhelm.” 

“I tried to tell her!” 

“She wouldn’t stop calling him that last time.” 

“She’s stubborn.” They sit there in a silence only interrupted occasionally by Oliver’s muffled sobs. They’re both thinking about that wild but amazing woman up in Minnesota. 

“Maybe the next one,” Oliver finally says. He glances up at his husband, looking both hopeful and nervous. Connor wants to argue because he hates Wilhelmina. He hates it so much. Wilhelm is just as bad. There’s just no good version of it. But he realises that perhaps a name itself isn’t the most important thing, but where it came from. 

“Yeah, maybe the next one,” He replies softly, pressing a kiss to the other’s forehead. “If you let me tuck you into bed and open that Ben & Jerry’s we’ve been saving.” 

“Okay.”


End file.
